


Painting by Chagall

by tinsnip



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: DS9, Deep Dish Nine, Feel-good, M/M, Post-Canon Cardassia, Self-Indulgent, Vignettes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-05
Packaged: 2017-12-04 10:57:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinsnip/pseuds/tinsnip
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three views of Elim Garak and Julian Bashir, set in three universes:</p><p>Deep Dish Nine, where DS9 is a pizzeria, Elim Garak is an ex-spy turned tailor, and Julian Bashir is a medical student;<br/>Post-Canon Cardassia, where Julian is newly arrived and very much infatuated, and<br/>DS9, where it's dark and quiet in Julian's quarters...</p><p>Self-indulgent feel-good fic. Read and feel happy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. DD9

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Elim Garak and Julian Bashir do not belong to me; I thank Paramount for telling us their story.  
> Disclaimer the second: "Painting by Chagall" is a song by The Weepies, and if you like this fic, you should very much check it out; you can hear it [here](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3PmXpT6ejE4), and I think you'll like it. (And if you do, please buy it - iTunes is the easiest way, I think!)

_thunder rumbles in the distance, a quiet intensity_  
 _i am willful, your insistence is tugging at the best of me_  
 _you're the moon, i'm the water_  
 _you're mars, calling up neptune's daughter_

"You're right. This was a good idea."

Garak stretched his legs out in front of him, comfortable in the grass; beside him, Julian sprawled, leaning back on his elbows. They gazed out over the park from their vantage point on the gentle slope, watching people meandering on the paths, geese honking on the little pond. The breeze was warm.

Julian had talked him into going, and even with Garak's predilection for quiet, warm, and _inside,_ he hadn't taken all that much convincing. At 4:45 PM on a Saturday, he was really quite sick of the inside of his shop, and the day had been beautiful, peeking through the shop window; he'd stopped and sighed more than once, and stood by his door, watching, and had finally propped the door open with a few scraps from the scrap bin so he could enjoy the soft breeze. Early summer: not quite warm enough for him (not that it ever was, here), but still lovely, still worth enjoying...

And when Julian had poked his head in the door for the first time all week, Garak had turned and smiled, glad for the distraction from his work. Julian had been at his most charming, tilting his head, smiling his wide smile, twisting his hands together, and Garak hadn't had a chance. Before he knew it, he and Julian were walking down Denorios Avenue together, chatting about their days, about Julian's paper for microbiology, about Garak's little rooftop garden, about nothing and everything, and Garak had been happier than he'd been... well, all week, if one was counting.

Before long they'd arrived at Orion Park, wide and green and sprawling, trees waving their leaves gently in the breeze, flowers in pretty profusion. They'd wandered the paths, admiring the last bit of the day, the sun sinking softly toward the horizon. Julian had steered Garak toward the little cantina, and had bought him a hot dog, and laughed at him trying to eat it neatly; he, meanwhile, had devoured an enormous portion of french fries, slathered with ketchup, and Garak had watched in mild consternation, _well, at least it's a vegetable..._

They'd climbed up a grassy slope, and Julian, replete and lazy, had declared himself done wandering and had let himself collapse on the grass. Garak had been thrust upon the horns of a dreadful dilemma: _do I sit on my coat, or do I get grass stains on these pants...?_ The coat had won the day, and was bundled up beside him, neatly; it was lovely out, and his cardigan was more than enough to keep him warm. Julian, of course, was bare-armed, his shirt sleeves rolled up, because he was insane.

Now they rested together, pulled to the earth by the irresistible force of gravity; who could be expected to fight against its power when it was such a perfect day, when one was fed and comfortable and with someone whom one liked so very much...?

The breeze caught Julian's hair, tugged at Garak's, blowing it lightly over his face; he brushed it aside, and smiled to himself.

Julian laughed at him, at his secretive expression. "What are you so happy about?"

Garak slid a sideways look at him. "Why don't you tell me?"

Julian's laugh faded to a smile, amused and perhaps just a trifle smug; it looked good on him. He tilted his head, and contented himself with a shake of his head at Garak; Garak lowered his eyelids in pleased response. For a moment, he allowed himself to just look at Julian, and Julian looked back, and there very possibly wasn't very much more to life than this.

In the distance, over the honks of geese and the quiet chatter of passersby, a low rumble sounded - _thunder?_ He looked up into the sky, now faded to a darker blue; grey clouds were massing on the horizon, planning their assault.

He nudged Julian, pointed; Julian followed his gesture, raised his brows. "Hmm. Well, that puts a stop to my plan to fall asleep on the grass."

Garak nodded, not without regret, and stood himself up slowly, doing his best to avoid grunting as he did so; he might be middle-aged, but he hardly needed to be a _caricature._ Julian, for his part, rolled himself up and uncoiled into a stand, effortlessly; Garak watched in admiration, both for the loveliness of the movement, and with a hint of jealousy for his own lost flexibility, not nearly appreciated enough when it had been his to enjoy.

He gathered up his coat and brushed it off, and folded it neatly over his arm. Julian watched, smiling, as he arranged it just so. _Laugh if you like. Little things matter._

They walked carefully down the slope, trying not to trip, their steps jarring as they tried to judge the distance; once they reached the brick path, Garak's strides lengthened, covering ground as he moved quickly, wanting to beat the storm -

\- and he'd left Julian behind, strolling slowly behind him, smiling when Garak turned.

"Come on, Julian; we need to hurry back."

And now Julian stopped, and tilted his head, his smile quirking. "Why?"

 _Why?_ Garak frowned. "Because it's going to rain, Julian."

"So?"

Now Garak's eyes were lidded, his expression mildly irritated. "So we will get _wet_ , Julian."

Julian opened his hands. "And?"

And he knew his expression now was probably faintly ridiculous, but he couldn't hide his exasperation. "And I don't _want_ to get wet, Julian."

And now Julian was laughing at him, but trying so hard to keep his expression serious, and _damn_ _him_ , he was simply _adorable_ , "I'm fairly certain you won't melt, Garak..."

Garak was trying to frown, trying to project irritation, but it was suddenly so difficult - "You don't know that for certain."

And Julian turned his face to the sky and laughed, and irritation fled, leaving only delight behind. He was defenseless, hands open, his only shield his skin, and it wasn't nearly enough...

Julian, still chuckling, looked at him standing there, and held out a hand. "Come on. We'll walk together. And we'll take our time."

Garak's mouth worked as he hunted for words, but that hand, long-fingered and lovely, seemed to pull him to it, to draw him in; as if moving on its own, his own hand reached for Julian's, and their fingers interlaced, swift and sweet, and Garak's eyes closed.

He felt Julian squeeze his hand, felt his warm breath on his ear as Julian leaned in, still laughing.

"I haven't seen you all week, Garak. Don't rush me now."

And really, what could he say?

They walked together, slowly, matching steps, and it did start to rain, not hard, thunder rumbling off in the distance, never quite overhead. The rain was warm. It ran down Garak's neck, into his shirt; it soaked his coat, and his pants clung to him, and his shoes (oh, his shoes) squished with each step.

Julian, wet and laughing, clung to his hand, and Garak was pulled along beside him like tide to moon, helpless to resist, drowning in delight; all around him, rain was falling.


	2. Post-Canon Cardassia

_i am humbled in this city - there seems to be an endless sea_  
 _of people like us, wakeful dreamers; i pass them on the sunlit streets_  
 _in our rooms filled with laughter_  
 _we make hope from every small disaster_

Julian sipped his lukewarm water, and looked out over the city.

The view from the small apartment, short-term post-disaster housing, was not encouraging. _So much damage, so much destroyed... And how short-term is this disaster, if months later this is still his home?_

The proud buildings slumped, toppling over on each other; cracks were visible in their foundations, when they weren't outright reduced to rubble. The little parks were torn to shreds, their trees mostly ash. The roads themselves were cracked and broken, and vehicles moved slowly, carefully along, pausing often.

He could see people walking, talking, stopping here and there to shop, to gesture at each other, to tidy a small garden or kick a ball. Life went on in the ruins of Cardassia. People were people, wherever you went; he'd long stopped being surprised at the resilience of Cardassians, although he'd never stopped admiring it. _And would Humans have done any less, if the Dominion had targeted Earth?_ He hoped not, and put that thought away; life was complicated enough without that kind of what-if.

He drank again, and the water was refreshing, even if it was warm; in this relentless heat, any kind of liquid was something his body craved, cried out for. The air was thick with humidity, and yet it hadn't rained once in weeks, unheard of in this area at this time of year; it was like a kind of ongoing quiet tension in the air, as the people and the plants waited for the rain. The tiny gardens, so meticulously kept, planted with such hope, were dying. As they withered, Julian almost thought he could feel the city's hope withering too; the little window box on the balcony, harbouring orchids, was a sad sight, and if it hurt him to look at it - him, who had two brown thumbs, who'd been sternly forbidden to so much as _breathe_ on the plants - how much more must it hurt someone who'd put a little bit of his soul in there, who'd wagered his hopes against Cardassia's new reality?

He wondered if it would help if he poured a little of his water on the plants, and stopped himself, and drank it instead; he needed it more, and marvelously, he'd found he was valued over orchids...

As if in answer to his idle thought, he heard movement behind him; he turned and smiled behind him at the grey-faced man emerging from the bedroom, rubbing his eyes.

"Good morning, Garak."

The Cardassian blinked at him, just a bit muzzily, and wasn't it wonderful to see him with his guard down, just a little? Julian wasn't tired of it yet, couldn't imagine those blue eyes ever losing their fascination for him, the joy of all their different expressions - he caught himself smiling, just a little tipsy with infatuation, yet another surprise Cardassia had held for him. He stepped away from the window, moved a bit closer to Garak, tilting his head to present his mouth invitingly.

Garak blinked once, lazily, and smiled a quiet smile, and kissed him, hard, and perhaps just a bit possessively - _oh_ \- and Julian's eyes slipped shut, and for a moment he was lost -

They stood together, comfortable amid discomfort, amid the spare severity of the temporary apartment, their foreheads resting together, and Garak sighed to himself, long and quiet and content. Julian thrilled to it, wanted to laugh; instead, he hugged Garak for a moment, pressed a kiss to his cheek.

He moved to the little replicator. "Rokassa juice?"

"Mmm, if you please." Garak's eyes were still sleepy - yet another late night on the reclamation crew, moving debris, cleaning streets, reconstructing and planning, doing whatever needed to be done to rebuild whatever little part of Cardassia he could. God, it was almost maddening; he devoted himself to it beyond reason, and Julian had to nag and prod to get him to eat, to sleep. _What was he doing before I got here?_

Well, he'd read the letters. _He was doing everything he could, and more than he could, and nobody was stopping him from doing until he was done..._

That was Julian's job now, to an extent; he was busy too. He was too weak to work on a reclamation crew; even his enhanced strength still paled next to that of a Cardassian, and the heat was too intense for him to be good for much. But there was always triage, there were always wounded, and his Starfleet credentials had actually been more of a help than a hindrance - unusual on Cardassia, where Starfleet was not exactly a welcome name. They'd had to admit, though, his skills were top-notch - and so he'd been pulled into the rag-tag medical network, making house calls and setting broken limbs and treating parasitic infections and doing all the desperately needed basic medical maintenance a decimated population needed. Dramatic and exciting it was not; he found he didn't care. _I am needed, both by him, and by this world._ It suited him; it was good for the soul, it gave him hope -

 _If only it would rain..._ Damn the Dominion, and damn the orbital bombardments, and damn the changed weather patterns, and never mind, this didn't help...

He dialed up Garak's juice as Garak settled himself on a balcony chair, and brought it to him; Garak nodded thanks, and Julian settled himself in the chair opposite. _Flimsy plastic chairs on a cracked plascrete balcony on a half-destroyed world. Some shore leave, Julian._

And Garak sipped his juice, and those blue eyes smiled up at him over the rim of the cup; he wouldn't change a thing.

Garak stretched his neck this way and that, ridges flexing; Julian watched, half-amused, half-aroused, but it was too hot, really, and Garak was exhausted, _put it off for now._ He tilted his head, smiled at the older man. "Ready for the morning report?"

Garak closed his eyes. "As ready as I'll ever be."

Julian ticked items off on his fingers, calling to mind the morning broadcast. "Minimal power - I hope you like that juice, because it's the last one you can have 'til thirteen-hundred, and we'll be having emergency rations for breakfast and last night's water to drink. No climate control. City-wide water supply contaminated," and Garak sighed, "yes, _again_ , the repair crews are working on it. Ummm..." He ran down. "But the sun is still shining."

Garak opened an eye, peered at him. "For now. I don't think it would be wise to get our hopes up, Doctor, do you?"

Julian smiled. "Bah. No water, no power. I've handled worse." He raised his brows at Garak; _do you remember...?_

Garak's expression changed, acknowledging; he raised his glass in an ironic salute and sipped.

Julian settled back in his chair, propping his legs out in front of him. Hot, yes, uncomfortable, yes, terrible food, yes, but it still beat the hell out of a Jem'Hadar prison camp, and the general atmosphere was much more congenial to boot. He snuck a look at Garak, who was relaxed in his chair, eyes closed; he looked tired, and older, and just about as happy as Julian had ever seen him. _I do hope I have something to do with that..._

As if he felt Julian's gaze, Garak's eyes opened, and he met Julian's gaze evenly, just a hint of a smile around his mouth. Julian looked back at him, enjoying the moment, and just a bit admiring, too; Garak had worked through most of the night, had only gotten home at about oh-two-hundred, had slept for only six hours or so, and here he was, up again and no doubt ready to go. _Whether it's good for him or not._

He pursed his lips, looked at Garak. "Aren't you tired?"

Garak's lips twitched; he was amused. "I'm exhausted."

Julian frowned. "Why don't you go back to bed? Get a little more sleep - I'm sure the city can get along without you for a day - "

But Garak was already shaking his head, his expression gentle, and he gestured out over the city. "Doctor, right now, the city can't get along without _any_ of us for a day."

Julian chewed the inside of his lip, brows still low. "I hope you're not letting your love of melodrama run away with you, Garak."

Garak's brow ridges twitched, and he smiled. "Melodrama indeed, Doctor. I am needed. We are all needed." He turned and looked out over Cardassia City, over its streets. Julian looked with him, and tried to see what he saw.

"Look at them, Doctor," Garak breathed, and his voice was almost a whisper. Julian looked out over the streets, and saw Cardassia City, ruined -

\- but not desolate, far from it; the city was alive with people, living their lives, repairing the damage, playing games, buying and selling and _being_ -

\- and Garak's face was proud, and his voice was firm. "Those are my people... They need me, Doctor, just as I need them. Together, we dream Cardassia as she used to be." He frowned for a moment, shook his head. "As she _still is_ \- and as she will be again."

Julian looked sideways at him, and shook his own head in turn. "In time, Garak. You can't do it all in one day."

Garak looked at him, his eyes alight. "But I can do _some_ of it today, Doctor - and who knows? One day, perhaps sooner than we think, we may wake up and find that, without noticing, one day at a time, we have rebuilt Cardassia just as she was."

Julian pursed his lips, and smiled, and held up his half-full glass of warm water. "To one day at a time, then."

Garak smiled, and tapped his glass against Julian's -

and the first drop of rain splashed, almost theatrically, into his glass of juice; they both jerked back, their drinks splashing in turn, and looked up -

and the clouds drifted overhead, the rain pouring down, the first rain in so long, wet and warm -

and the rain moved over them, over the streets of Cardassia, light and constant, washing them clean, pouring over the tired people, the thirsty gardens -

the clouds rolled by, but still the sun shone through, flashing its beams through every gap -

they smiled at each other, soaked to the skin -

all around them, rain was falling.


	3. DS9

_sometimes rain that's needed falls_  
 _we float like two lovers in a painting by Chagall_  
 _all around is sky and blue town_  
 _holding these flowers for a wedding gown_  
 _we live so high above the ground, satellites surround us_

"Ah..."

A quiet moment.

"That was lovely..."

A smile in the darkness. "Pleased to be of service."

"Mmm. What... _was_ that?"

"What was what?"

"That thing you did. With your fingertips. When you were, um..."

"Ah. _Falling rain."_

"That didn't quite translate..."

"So many of the best things don't."

More quiet, and a kiss; their bodies moving together, pushing as close as possible, and shared warmth beneath a light sheet.

"Mmph. Careful with those scales. God, I am going to have a rash in the most _embarrassing_ places - "

"I don't even want to discuss the places I suspect I am going to find fur."

" _Fur - "_

A soft chuckle, changing to a gasp of laughter as his hands move swiftly -

"Stop, stop - "

"Ticklish Cardassians, will wonders never cease. What other dark secrets are you hiding from me, Garak?"

"That would be telling..."

His long limbs are spread out on the bed, his muscles stretching and relaxing, and he makes a low, happy noise.

"You seem happy."

"I _am_ happy. I am _wonderful._ I am - "

"Yes?"

"I don't have a word for it, Garak... I just... I'm floating."

A surprised look, half-seen in the dim light.

"Floating?"

"Mmm. Honestly, gravity control could go out right now, and I'd never know the difference."

A moment of quiet consideration, and then pleased kisses, pressed against his jawline, and he's squirming -

"Stop, you're tickling!"

"Turnabout is fair play."

"Ohhh - "

And a quick movement turns them both over, and now they've switched positions, he's on top, and the bed is soft on his knees, ridged shoulders cool in his hands.

"I just feel so _good_ when I'm with you, I just - "

A low rumbling, agreeing and perhaps just a bit impatient, and strong arms reach up and pull him back down, press him close, their chests together, hipbones entrancingly offset, and a soft voice, a near-whisper in his ear, warm breath making him close his eyes and arch his back -

"On that point, Julian, I am inclined to agree with you..."

And he's tingling, so warm, and really? Again? Yes, again, and he opens his eyes, looks down at his lover looking up at him.

"Do it again? Please?"

Blue eyes blink up at him, almost laughing. "Well, since you ask so politely..."

And those strong arms enfold him, turn him and place him, and he closes his eyes, leans back, and grey fingertips patter lightly over his skin, he's floating, he's drifting, and all around him, rain is falling.

* * *

_everybody says you can't, you can't, you can't, don't try_  
 _still everybody says that if they had the chance they'd fly like we do_  
 _\--the weepies, "painting by chagall"_


End file.
